You're My Better Half
by They Call Me Alice
Summary: "And that was when I knew my life was over. Dimitri was standing in the doorway of our apartment, watching me intensely. He had seen me masturbating to the thought of him." DROSE & CHRISSA. MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY! AU, AH, SOME OOC-NESS.
1. Sex and Jealousy

New story! This one is for a MATURE AUDIENCE! If you can't handle it, then please turn around now. Its AU (alternate universe), and they are AH (all human). The characters are OOC because this is AU, so please don't say, "That's not something Dimitri or Rose would do!" If you have no bitching, then please enjoy. :) And review! I need to know if people are interested in this before I continue it.

Disclaimer: I don't own VA. :/

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**You're My Better Half**  
**Chapter One**  
**Sex and Jealousy**.

_Moan._

_Thump._

_Groan._

"_Ohhh…Dimitri!"_

Alright, this was getting to be just a bit too much for me to handle. Seriously, it's punishment enough to make me listen to ridiculously loud sex noises during daytime hours, but in the middle of the night when I'm trying to sleep? I'd had about enough, especially considering I had work the next morning. I rolled over to let my heavy eyes focus on the blaring red numbers of my alarm clock.

_3:45 a.m._

Alright, _this_ morning. I had to get up in less than two hours, and if my oh-so-intelligent roommate seemed to forget, _he_ did as well. Not that it mattered to him because honestly, he was less of a morning person if he hadn't gotten off the night before. _Some_ of us, however, _aren't_ sex addicts _and_ we live in this same apartment. _Some_ of us need sleep in order to accomplish anything remotely important the following day.

Grabbing my pillow, I removed it from underneath me and tried, for the hundredth time that night, to drown out the noise by covering my head with it. I tightened my eyes as if that would help, but after a few moments of concentration, realized that I could still hear the moans ever-so-slightly, and the rocking of the bed against the wall had not lost any noise at all.

"SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP IN HERE!" I yelled, resorting to the action in hopes that maybe voicing my frustrations would cause him to feel enough guilt that he would immediately stop.

I listened for a second.

"_HARDER, DIMITRI, HARDER!"_

No such luck.

Then again, who was I kidding? I'd tried yelling before and it had done no good, why was now any different? Honestly, he was probably the vainest man I had ever had the displeasure of meeting in my short life; it was so below him to listen to anyone else's desires or wants. Such as _my_ want to get a nice sleep so I could do my job tomorrow.

I banged on the wall with my fist, hoping that would at least get them to realize the racket they were causing with the unstable bed. The noise was only reciprocated though, after a moment of pause. I heard some giggling and the excited whisper of whatever girl he was banging now, followed by the sexy purr of what was her Russian sex-God for the night.

Somewhere, jealousy rumbled inside of me, but I was good at fighting it back. Forget the fact that, unlike the multitude of girls Dimitri brought home, I had known him since he was twelve years old. No, that key item didn't seem to affect Dimitri in the slightest other than the fact that, realistically, he only saw me as a friend. I was treated like one of the guys, especially because of my uncanny ability to throw a fist when I needed to, and the only kind of physical activity he participated in with me was the occasional sparring match. Not once in the entire sixteen years I'd known Dimitri—and in the two we'd been living together—had he ever so much as made a move towards me or shown he was slightly interested.

What a blow to my ego.

To be fair, I'd never made any moves towards him, either, but really, that was his fault. He seemed so infatuated with the idea of staying friends that the prospect of telling him how badly _I_ wanted to be the one in his bed-and being instantly rejected afterward-did not seem like a good _idea _to _me._ Besides, there was always the ever-looming-threat of our age difference to worry about, which was something I think that he at least subconsciously took into consideration. He was twenty-eight and I recently turned twenty-one, separating us by seven years.

Really though, I questioned how far apart we were when it came to maturity. Dimitri had the _ability_ to be serious, but did he use it frequently? No. Only at work, and as unfortunate as it was, I hardly ever saw Dimitri in work-mode. The closest contact we made was at home in our apartment, and that was usually when he had a girl around. Dimitri and I worked for the same company, but not in the same building, nor in the same position. He was a corporate manager and I was simply an administrative assistant.

Yep. Another blow to my ego.

Few people understood how we were roommates. I didn't exactly understand either, but I suppose when you've been friends for as long as we have, you stop questioning what is sane and what isn't. All I really remember from the discussion we had about moving in together was that Dimitri had just left his Mother's and wanted to be on his own. I had been given an apartment for my graduation as a combined present from my mother and father, and so, _viola_, I'd invited him to stay. This was, of course, before he had managed to climb up the corporate ladder of success. Dimitri had enough money to buy himself two houses if he wanted now, so I wasn't entirely sure why he stayed, but I was too scared to ask. The prospect of being without him was threatening.

The thought struck me as odd: Two people, living together, a man and a woman. We'd made what would be considered a gigantic leap in a normal relationship, but seeing as how we had no romantic feelings between us, it was just two friends living together. And one of those two friends just _had_ to bring home a certain lady friend with them every night. Yep, definitely not in a relationship.

The next morning proved to be exactly how every other morning had proved to be: ridiculous. I'd managed to throw myself out of bed after hitting the snooze button seven or eight times, successfully making it impossible for me to take a shower before heading off to work. I'd also have to grab some breakfast on the way there, because there was no time for Rose to make her infamous pancakes.

I _was_, however, going to make coffee, but, unfortunately, there was a stupid sex-fiend blocking the coffee machine.

"Move," I growled, using all my willpower to focus on his head with the hope that it would pop. Dimitri turned and offered me a much-too-chipper grin, already holding his cup filled to the brim with coffee. God how I wanted to hit it and ruin that nice suit he was wearing. That thing probably cost more than he gives for rent.

"Good morning to you, too, Rose," He commented, patting my head as he all but refused to get out of my way. Damn it, where were those superhuman powers I wished for when I was five years old? "You seem ready for work this morning."

"No thanks to you," I mumbled, using the regular method of just shoving him out of the way. Unlike I had hoped, the coffee didn't spill on him. I began pouring myself a cup, simultaneously grabbing the container of sugar and the creamer.

"Morning, Rose," A different voice cooed, and it was all too close for comfort. I cringed at the sound, pausing in my actions to let the shiver roll down my spine. "How did you sleep?" Of course she would choose to be sarcastic; it was her job to hate the woman that lived with her boyfriend, right?

"Horrible, but I'm sure you know that," I conceded, taking a sip of my newly made coffee before turning to leave the kitchen. "Please try not to touch anything, Tasha. The last thing I need on my to-do list is to scrub the kitchen clean of any rampant STDs."

I heard a taken-aback gasp and then the outrageous, familiar, "How _dare_ she?" followed by Dimitri's soothing words as he tried to convince her not to come and rip my hair from its roots. I snorted the moment I was back in my room. As _if_ she could even get close enough to touch me.

I brushed my teeth and hair, applying minimal makeup before changing into my work clothes. I frowned distastefully at the slacks and blouse I was forced to wear. Almost two years of wearing the professional clothing and I _still_ didn't like it.

After slipping the clothing on and sliding my feet into those damn heels that I also had to wear, I managed to scoot my way out the door. The only good thing wearing these damn shoes did for me in the two years I've worn them is allowed me to walk around in them as if I own the place. Practice makes perfect, after all.

"Where's Tasha?" I snarled as I grabbed my purse, not bothering to give Dimitri a second glance. He was seated on the couch with his coffee and a bowl of cereal, eyes fixated on the TV which was playing some stupid good morning show.

"Taking a shower," He responded, mouth full of cereal. I frowned.

"In _our _shower?" I asked in disgust.

He turned to give me a pointed look, "No, Rose, in the neighbor's shower. Yes of course in _our _shower. You say it like we're married."

I had to fight the blush that threatened my cheeks as soon as the image of Dimitri and I married popped into my head. Shaking it furiously, I slipped my purse over my shoulder and snagged my keys off the counter. "No, but I also take showers in there, and as okay as you are with getting her diseases, I'm obviously not."

"If she has any diseases, they're from me, and if you were to get them from the shower, you would have already gotten them a long time ago. Pull that stick out of your ass for once, Rose. Not everyone is as dedicated to being lonely for the rest of their life like you are."

That comment certainly hit home. I bit my lip, for once not having a spiteful comment to throw back at him. I stood there for a few moments, reveling in what he said. Dimitri seemed to have realized how awkward it made the air and that it probably had been a mistake. He furrowed his brows and frowned, making the move to stand from the couch.

"Rose, look I didn't mean—"

"I'll see you after work," I meekly replied, and before he could reply or finish his half-assed apology, I was out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

Work was as boring as ever. There was a large corporate meeting that I had to attend and they hadn't talked about anything important that pertained to me. The majority of the time I spent secretly playing Pac Man on my cell-phone, and when that got too boring, my mind tried to find things to think about. Of course, 'things' usually went back to Dimitri and right now the only thought I could think about him was the snide, hurtful comment he said earlier in the morning. That and how absolutely sexy he looked in that damn suit.

_Calm down, Rose,_ I chided myself, trying to refocus on the meeting. They were going on and on about the new budget and how that would cut some members from the team. I frowned. Of course I would tune in on the most depressing portion of the meeting. I severely hoped my job wasn't in jeopardy.

"The majority of jobs that this new plan consists of are positions we can afford to lose, those that aren't necessarily _necessary_, if you get what I'm saying. Such as admin assistants to positions that aren't higher than supervisor, and janitors."

So I was being lumped in with _janitors_? Glad to know what a degree in business did for you in this world. I managed to refrain from sighing, glad when the man dismissed everyone from the meeting. Everyone except myself and the few other admin assistants I had made friends with seemed fine. The rest of us, and a lonely janitor who had happened to be cleaning when they were making the announcement, looked dejected as Hell.

"Well, this sucks," One of my better friends, Lissa, said. I turned toward her with a frown. She had been working here for longer than I had, and I severely doubted they would fire her.

"They aren't going to fire you, Liss," I waved my hand dismissively at her, "You've been working here for too long and you know that Christian adores you. He would be lost without you."

"You think?" She asked apprehensively, and I noticed her take a small glance over at her boss who was conversing with someone else higher up. I nodded.

"Of course." Christian Ozera was Lissa's boss and had been for the past four years she'd worked here. I could easily tell she had a sort of crush on him, but it was extremely frowned upon to be in a relationship with another employee at this company. If there was something going on between them behind the scenes, they were doing a really good job at covering it up.

After the meeting the day continued as normal until I could finally go home. I wasted no time, hoping to get home before Dimitri did so I could have some 'me' time. He went to work later than I did and thus came home later than I did, usually around seven or so where as I got home at about six.

As I stepped into the apartment tentatively, I peered around and was quickly met with silence. I instantly knew Dimitri wasn't home; had he been, I would have heard the familiar giggling and/or sex noises of Tasha. Ugh, I despised that woman, and not just because I didn't think that someone of her stature didn't deserve Dimitri. Not that I thought _I_ deserved Dimitri, either, but…well, there was a level of jealousy. She got to have a perfectly sculpted Russian God while I got…a vibrator. Seriously?

Maybe I really _was_ doomed to be alone forever.

I threw off my jacket and set my purse and keys on the table before beginning to unbutton my blouse. I threw it on my bed the moment I stepped through the threshold and then kicked off my shoes. With a relieved sigh, I pulled off my pants and grabbed a t-shirt from my dresser. I slipped it over my head, leaving me in just the shirt and my boy shorts. I trotted out of the room, simultaneously taking my hair out of its bun and running my hands through it to loosen it up.

"What to have for dinner…" I mused to myself, peering into the fridge. I decided on lasagna (the frozen kind) and pulled it out, popping it into the microwave. I set it for six minutes, leaning back on the counter to wait.

Dimitri in a suit popped into my mind again and I bit my lip. Jesus he was sexy. _Damn_ sexy at that. I tightened my eyes, picturing him coming home and turning to find me standing in the kitchen. His eyes would do that darkening sort of thing whenever he got serious, and he would quickly make his way over to me, running his hands down every supple piece of flesh he could find. His lips would caress my neck, down my prominent vein until he slowly started inching my shirt up, leaving me in only my bra. He would attach his lips to the skin of one breast that showed, his hands eventually working back around to the clasp to undo it and leave me bare. His other hand would sneakily slide down my toned stomach and find its way into my panties, his skilled fingers rubbing the very sensitive nerve located in my core…

"Nngh, Dimitri…" I moaned out loud, having taken the fantasy to reality. One hand was attached to my breast, kneading it while my other hand fondling the same clit I had dreamed of him touching. I was so close to climaxing…He was so good…

"Rose." His voice was so amazing, so Heavenly, so sexy. "Rose."

My eyes snapped open. He had sounded almost too real to be…

And that was when I knew my life was over. Dimitri was standing in the doorway of our apartment, watching me intensely…

He had seen me masturbating to the thought of him.

Shit.


	2. Of Birds and Bees

Welcome back, lovlies. :) Sorry this took so long to get out, I lost my inspiration half-way through, but here is the next chapter as promised. I'm surprised at the overwhelming feedback! Please do keep it coming, it was only your constant reviews that made me want to finish this. As for Last Sacrifice, I'm working on that next chapter now. I'm not quitting, or at least not planning to. Thank you for all your reviews there as well, I never thought I would be so accepted with welcoming arms. I love each and every one of you, I'm sorry I don't thank you more often. :) Now without further ado, here is the next chapter of You're My Better Half!

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS AU, OOC.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Academy or any of the characters, but I do own this plot and writing. ;)

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**You're My Better Half**  
**Chapter Two**  
**Of Birds and Bees **

The staring match had begun.

Neither of us dared make a move. It was quite comical, if you had any sense of humor and it was impossible for you to be embarrassed. Here I was with my hand down my pants staring at Dimitri with saucer plate eyes, while he stood in the doorway, not having bothered to shut the damn thing. I blinked, he blinked, and somewhere far off, I knew a kitten was being sent to Heaven because I had been caught masturbating. It was silent save for the kitten, so silent that when the microwave went off to tell me my food was done, we both nearly skyrocketed into the air from the sheer shrill of it. I ignored it, and finally-after what seemed like an eternity had passed and I was being sent to Hell and waving goodbye to that kitten I'd killed-I managed to come up with a reasonably intelligent thing to say…or, scream, really.

"Are you fucking serious?" I yelled, retrieving my hand from the front of my pants with a color that could rival a tomato staining my face. I grasped at the ends of my hair, trying to figure out just what on Earth I was supposed to do when my best friend, roommate and whatever-the-fuck-else-we-were was standing there, staring at me as if he was the deer and I was just a car that had specifically picked him to run over. I'd picked him to be a part of my fantasies, sure, but in all honesty I hadn't really thought the notion through. This had become even more blatantly obvious with every minute that passed between us—my eyes on Dimitri and his eyes on the lower half of me that was mostly unclothed.

"You weren't supposed to be home for another two hours!" I chastised, marching over to the microwave and grabbing the handle just a little bit too hard. I yanked it open and pulled the microwaveable substance out, grinding my teeth as if that would help the situation any. He didn't respond, and to be fair I didn't really give him time to, but for some reason that angered me. He should be saying something, damn it! Making fun of me, teasing me, joking about how unattractive I was—anything! I'd already used up my intelligence token for the day, however, and so with an angry growl, I barked, "This is all your fault, Belikov!" and promptly shoved my microwaveable dinner in his face.

I was stalking out of the room before I could see just how well the hot lasagna matched his complexion. I threw my door open and slammed it shut just as hard, but not before my cat ran inside my room. He jumped up on the bed and sat in the middle of the comforter, staring at me with the biggest "you are a fucking idiot" look I have ever seen. I resisted the urge to make him the next kitten to die (by whatever means necessary) and instead offered him my own glare in return.

"Oh hush you!" I growled, making my way over to my dresser to I could grab a pair of pajama pants. I slipped a pair of red plaid on and then grabbed an old red flannel I had received from my father when I was younger. I used to sleep in it all the time because of its size, but with the hot summer weather that permeated the air these days, I just hadn't had it in me to wear long sleeves. However, this recent situation with Dimitri made me feel more vulnerable than I'd ever felt in my entire life, and suddenly I was all too eager to cover up any part of my body that may be showing. It was a shame I'd never planned to rob a store—else I'd have a ski mask and could wear that, too.

Oscar (my dear, loving and extremely know-it-all cat) watched me, his tail swinging from side to side languidly as he watched me button the flannel and pull the sleeves down until they reached past my palms. He yawned as if to say I was boring, and to that I nodded my head. Let me be boring, then. The last thing I need is to give Dimitri any reason to remember what happened tonight. If all went well, he would just let himself forget it in the morning. If Lady Luck was _really_ on my side tonight, perhaps he would just wake up tomorrow and think it was all a dream!

Oscar gave me a deadpanned look.

"What, are you a psychic now or something?" I growled lowly, climbing onto my bed and snuggling under the warm comforter. Oscar curled up against my legs and breathed a sigh, and I knew he was disappointed in my come-back. Not that I had much energy left to come up with a good one; at least, not after what had happened tonight. I mean, look at the time. It was barely past six o'clock and I was already in bed. It had been well over ten years since I'd gone to bed before eleven at night, and my body's internal clock was waging a war inside of itself. No matter how much I willed and begged my body to listen, I just wasn't tired.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, laid there, tossed and turned or spoke quiet conversations with Oscar (who was getting extremely annoyed that I kept waking him up from his nap). All I know was that I was entirely too focused on what was happening outside my door to sleep. I wondered what Dimitri was up to; if he was affected at all by what he had witnessed. I could hear plates and glasses clinking outside and I knew that Dimitri was probably cleaning up a dinner he had fixed for himself—which, hopefully, hadn't been my face-lasagna. The TV rattled on some nonsense and I knew Dimitri was watching the seven o'clock news much like he did every night. The more I listened, the more I realized that Dimitri was continuing on with his night as if this had never happened. Somewhere inside of me, I was relieved, but what scared me was that the part of me that I could feel the most…was feeling rejected.

This made no sense to me. Hadn't I just earlier been wishing that he would continue on as normal? Proceed as if this never happened? Wake up and think this had been a dream? If so, why was I disappointed that he hadn't come barging into my room demanding to know why I had been doing what I was doing? Or, after realizing how hot I made him, why wasn't he sweeping me into his arms and carrying me into his room for a night full of sweaty and multiple rounds of passionate sex? Why was he not paying even _any_ attention me, damn it?

_Because you're just Rose to him,_ My inner voice chided. _You aren't Tasha, or any of the other girls he messes around with. You're just…nothing._

I bit my lip to try and control all of the emotions that tried to come at me all at once. Anger, hurt, rejection, and the feeling of wanting to bawl my eyes out all wanted equal attention and I didn't know which one to start with first. I'd feel like an idiot if I just randomly started crying (and the last thing I wanted was for Dimitri to come into my room because of that), and if I got angry I knew I would break things, things I couldn't exactly afford to replace. There was a solution though, one I knew all too well. I could only hope that, what I liked to refer to as 'Plan B', was at home.

I grabbed my cell off the nightstand next to me and hit speed dial number three, listening to it ring. A moment later, a petite and soprano-filled voice answered, "Hello?"

"Lissa," I breathed in relief, my smile lighting my face. "Listen, I have a problem…"

"Let me guess," She said, and I could hear the amusement filtering through her voice, "Dimitri?"

"Am I really that see through?" I questioned, hating how every time I called her she knew exactly what my problem was. Maybe I came to her too often. "Look, just…forget I called, I'll just—"

"Get your ass over here now, Rose. I'll see you in ten!" And with that, she hung up.

"Well, Oscar, looks like you and I are headed out for tonight," I spoke, reaching over to pet my cat's wild fur affectionately. He purred beneath me and jumped from the bed, seemingly as eager as I was to get out of the place. I shook my head at him and stood, setting my phone on the bedside table and pulled my small travel suitcase from beneath my bed. I threw in the essentials and a few pairs of clothes, not knowing exactly how long I would be crashing at Lissa's place. I'm sure it was something we could discuss when I got there, but I wanted to be safe. I didn't want to make any trips back to this sinful apartment and face Dimitri if I didn't have to.

Although Lissa and I had met through work, we had quickly become good friends. Dimitri was still my best friend (at least, I considered him that—our actions were beginning to speak otherwise) but Lissa was who I ran to if my problems were too girly to go to Dimitri, or if they were about Dimitri himself. We both enjoyed gossiping, movie-marathons with John Travolta in them, and shopping 'til our heart's content. She was easy to get along with, and the only downside was the small infliction she dealt to my ego. Lissa was drop-dead gorgeous, and although I wasn't ugly, I looked plain while standing next to her. Because of this, Lissa must have felt some innate need to help me along in life, and was only spurred on by my troubles with my male roommate and best friend. She set me up on frequent blind dates, the latest of which was with a guy named Mason and, although not too sore on the eyes, was about as boring as the wrinkles on my great-grandmother.

He had cracked a few jokes, and was reasonably intelligent, all of which I could have dealt with—it was simply the sex that had not lived up to my standards. The sex was absolutely, terrifyingly boring. He had insisted we do it missionary (regardless of how many hints I tried to drop that I preferred reverse cowgirl) and didn't even wait for me to finish. Once his little rocket had exploded into the atmosphere, that was it for him and he had rolled off of me faster than Oscar could woo the female cats in the apartment complex (you'd be surprised if you saw how many of the strays looked like him).

Needless to say, I hadn't properly been laid in months, and my vibrator and/or fingers just didn't cut it. Fantasizing only took you so far, no matter how many sexy Russian Gods you tried to imagine yourself with.

Slinging the travel bag over my shoulder, I picked up Oscar and held him in between my armpit, knowing that he wouldn't dare set a paw out on the dirty ground outside. He was a picky little bastard like that. Now was the part I dreaded—opening that barrier between Dimitri and I and making the few extra steps to walk out the front door. I swallowed and gathered up all the courage I could find. If he hadn't said anything yet, he wouldn't say anything now. I wrapped my hand around the door knob and pulled it open, marching to the front door with my nose in the air and my eyes successfully not looking around for even a slightly smoking hot Russian.

I'd grabbed my keys and slipped my shoes on before he finally made his move. "Where are you going?"

_Damn it, so close._ "Out." Simplicity was the best response at a time like this.

Dimitri frowned. "It's raining outside and it's almost nine. Where could you possibly be going and…" He eyed me up and down without regard for subtlety, "In your pajamas?"

I almost wanted to retort, '_Better than in my underwear with my hands down my pants!' _but, alas, I refrained and instead chose to use his words against him. "Must you know everything about what I'm doing?" I growled, my hand eagerly waiting to twist the knob of the front door and get out of what had so quickly become my personal Hell. "You act like we're _married_, Dimitri."

He had nothing to say to that, and so without further ado, I stepped out of the house.

Dimitri had been right about one thing: It was raining, and it was raining incredibly hard. Even under the shelter of the apartment complex's roof I was being attacked by raindrops, thrown in my direction by the callous and harsh winds. Gritting my teeth and deciding to bear it, I traveled down the stairs to the parking lot, unlocking my car and tossing my bag in it without regard to where it landed. Oscar went next, and he happily went flying, his now sopping fur clinging to him like a second skin.

"Sorry," I apologized meekly, avoiding the "I'm going to kill you and use your intestines as a chew toy" look he was currently giving me. Shutting my door and revving the engine, I pulled the gear into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot faster than I had before, not having realized the urge and desire I had to get out of there until that moment. After exiting the apartment complex's gates, I breathed a sigh of relief, almost as if an invisible weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The air seemed less thick and less tangible, and as I drove down the highway to get to Lissa's place, I was finally at peace and safe from my relentless thoughts, more focused on what I was going to tell Lissa when I got there. She knew that my problems had something to do with Dimitri, so blaming it on something else was out of the question. Would I be able to tell her the truth without dying from embarrassment moments later? As I explained, Lissa and I were close, but I usually left the role of 'the one that talks about their sex life' to her.

It really _was_ pouring outside, and I wished that I'd at least listened to Dimitri for a moment and grabbed an umbrella. Lissa lived on the third floor of her apartments, and unlike mine and Dimitri's, the stairs didn't have a roof over them. I sat in the car for about five minutes debating on what to do (mostly because I knew Oscar would have a fit and claw my eyes out if I so much as got him wet again) when my phone rang, Lissa's name popping up on the screen. I realized it was just a text message and with furrowed brows, read it.

_Coming down to get you because I just _know_ you didn't bring an umbrella with you. Oh, and I have a pet carrier you can stick Oscar in. See you soon. :) – Liss_

Sometimes I wondered if we had been friends in another life, or if Lissa was just that good at reading and deciphering people. I also felt some sort of twisted guilt about bringing Oscar every time I came to visit her. Really, he was my best friend (other than Dimitri) and I would feel terrible about leaving him…Alright, in reality, I had left Oscar one time by himself at home and the result was, by the time I came back, a shredded and cat-piss-smelling apartment. Not to mention the three other female strays he had hiding under my bed. He had not been happy with me that was for sure. I could not afford to give away three more litters of kittens, nor a replacement for my Luis Vuitton dress sitting in my closet (the only thing he had shredded in there, by the way).

I patiently waited for Lissa and when she arrived, we quickly exchanged greetings before hauling our asses toward her apartment. Oscar sat unhappily in his cage, but he knew better not to complain because at least he was out of the rain. When we were through clambering up the stairs (and after I almost busted my ass), we pushed through her door and slammed it behind us like a madman had been chasing us. Breathing heavily, we leaned against the door and I felt Oscar begin to move around in his cage, offering us a threatening meow. I bent down and set the cage on the floor, picking at the opening until I finally managed to get it to unlock. Oscar flew out from it and took off towards Lissa's room, most likely to go admire himself in front of her full-length vanity mirror. He had quite the ego.

I rolled my eyes while Lissa laughed and then we both pushed ourselves off the door, she heading towards the kitchen and I toward the rather comfy and warm looking couch. Lissa had a nice apartment—much nicer than mine and Dimitri's, anyways—and I found myself almost jealous of how she was able to live in solidarity. The couch I currently occupied was made of nice, black leather, and a matching love seat sat next to it. Both had matching foot rests in front of them, and further in front of those was a pure glass made coffee table where several old issues of Cosmo sat along with the remotes to her BluRay DVD player, her flat screen Sony TV and her home entertainment center. White shelled lights hung from the ceiling and a large black rug sat on the stainless white carpet. The living room led into the rather large kitchen Lissa was standing in, and the black marble countertop was the last indication I needed that Lissa's favorite color was probably black. Chuckling to myself, I turned to face the gigantic windows that made the apartment seem more like a penthouse, watching the rain as it hit the stainless-steel railing outside on the balcony.

"Hey, Rose, want some hot chocolate?" Lissa called, snapping me out of my admiration of her apartment.

"Sure," I replied, standing from the couch. Lissa emerged not a second later, two cups in hand. I suppose she had made me some even if I was going to deny her. Clad in a blue, silk slip, Lissa looked radiant against the well-furnished apartment and her blond hair only made her look more like a Goddess. Smoothing out my wrinkled, plaid, red pajama pants, I suddenly felt boring and bleak standing next to her, almost as if I wasn't supposed to be here; as if it were against the rules. I still took the mug from Lissa and with a murmured thanks, I sipped on the delicious beverage. She stared at me for a while after she took a seat, and figuring she expected me to sit as well, I slowly sat on the loveseat, trying not to flicker my eyes back and forth from her to my cup too much. When she continued staring, however, I felt unnerved and began to purse my lips, feeling uncomfortable under her unruly gaze.

"What?" I finally asked, my fingers so tight around the cup of hot chocolate that I was sure I was trying to use a form of conduction to burn my fingers off. Lissa giggled and I turned my gaze to her, angrily frowning. "Something funny?" Maybe I had been wrong about her.

"You're just cute," She commented off-handedly, mimicking the action as she waved her hand in the air. She released a soft sigh and then tilted her head, empathetically looking at me. "In case you forgot, you came here because you were having problems with Dimitri. As the hostess of this fine sleep over, I think I deserve just a wee bit of information about what went down."

Shit. Of course she wanted to know about Dimitri, how had I so quickly forgotten? I had come up with a few ideas on what to tell her while stranded in my car, but none that seemed believable. Ones that included catching Dimitri in the middle of sex with my mother (which would _never_ happen, not in a million years as my mother hated the man), or seeing him using my good silverware to scratch his back. And while the latter _would_ do well to piss me off, it wasn't something I would storm out of the apartment for. At least not long enough to go to Lissa's.

I looked around the large apartment and sighed. With all the Cosmopolitan magazines littering Lissa's table, maybe she would be more inclined to understand and accept that I thought. Besides, what was my other option? Refuse to tell her? That would be rude since I was the one that called her asking to come stay the night. Maybe it would actually help to talk to an actual human rather than my cat who, besides the angry glares and infuriated meows, couldn't really say much back. So, with a resigned sigh, I leaned into the plush backing of the loveseat and tried to explain why I'd called her up at nine o'clock at night, begging to come over.

"Well, you see, Dimitri and I…we have a special relationship."

"You start every one of your stories out like this. I understand you guys have a special relationship now get to the meaty stuff!" Lissa urged, scooting closer to me with a grin on her face. I frowned. I could only hope that this was concern for me showing through and not just concern for the latest gossip.

"You can't repeat this—to anyone," I warned, pointing my finger at her accusingly. Lissa had been known to be the gossiper at work, and although she'd never said anything about Dimitri and I before, I just wanted to make sure. After assuring me and promising she wouldn't say anything, I tried to swallow my fear and whatever was left of my pride in order to tell her what had happened. She wouldn't judge me; at least not any more or less than Oscar would have. And Oscar was a hard judge, so if I could take his criticism, I could handle hers. I took a deep breath and, finishing the last of my hot cacao, started to tell my rendition.

When I was finished telling her exactly how it had played out (and I told only the straight facts—I was not about to throw any kinds of feelings into the mix, at least not yet), Lissa stared at me as if it were…completely normal. Really, when I had been sitting there for what felt like decades preparing myself for her inevitable freak-out, I was even more caught off guard by her nonchalance than I would have been by her screaming and telling me to get out because I was such a weirdo. Instead, she just sipped at her hot chocolate and listened intently, doing the same even after I was done speaking. I swallowed hesitantly and looked from side to side, almost wishing I had never come.

"I um…did I say something?" I inquired, chewing on my lower lip in anticipation. Lissa stared at me still, then almost as quiet as a mouse but as confident as a lion, she replied.

"No."

"Then, is there a specific reason why I feel like there is a gigantic ass elephant lingering in the room? I tell you this horribly embarrassing story and all I get in return is silence? Can you see where my ego is being deflated?" I left out the part that I talked to Oscar daily and, since the car never responded save for a few meows and hisses, it didn't do me much better. I only really had Lissa and Oscar to talk to, now that I thought about it and it was always about the same thing: Dimitri.

"Because I want you to understand that what you did, what you _were _doing, was not wrong. Maybe the location was a bit off and I advise you to try somewhere else next time," She giggled, "But, Rose, realize that you are a single woman who lives with a sexy man who pays you no attention. That has _got_ to be torture! I mean, _I _ do it, and I don't even have someone around teasing me all the time, so it's even more acceptable for you!"

I felt my face flush at Lissa's words. "Um, _you_ do it?"

Lissa cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows, "Yeah. Doesn't everyone?"

I almost felt like fainting, but I withheld from the desire and just shook my head. I was in complete awe. Here I was thinking that masturbating was a sin, and Lissa over here felt that it was…absolutely _normal_. Was I the crazy one, or was she? Either way, even if it was a acceptable, I strongly believed that it was meant to be kept behind closed doors, and I suppose it really was only my fault that Dimitri had seen me. Had I been locked away in my room or the bathroom, he would have never known, but because I had to be brave Indiana Jones exploring new territory, he had caught me in an embarrassing position. It was up to Dimitri if he wanted to ignore it or not, and since he was, I was going to have to accept that choice. It wasn't fair what I had put him through. I wondered if it made him feel obligated, and whenever Dimitri felt obligated to do something, he always _never_ did it. Maybe I'd just ruined my one chance…if there was ever any.

"So what do I do now, Lissa?" I questioned, frowning and staring down at the half-finished hot chocolate in my hands.

"Well," She started, moving to set her hot chocolate on the coffee table. She opened her mouth to continue, but was immediately stopped by a rapping at the front door. Both of us looked to each other, I wish a frown and she with nonchalance, before she stood. She carried her petite body to the front door and, after peering out the peephole, opened it. I could hear the rain pounding outside clearly now, and the smell flew into the apartment as if it was welcome. I waited patiently for her, not being able to see who was at the door at this hour from my current position.

"Rose," Lissa called, and I snapped my head in her direction, watching her turn her head towards me. "There's someone here to see you." She moved out of the way of whoever was there, and I wondered who on Earth could possibly end up at Lissa's house to see me, or even know I was there.

When she was done moving, Dimitri walked inside, all six foot two of his gorgeous Russian body soaking wet.


	3. Purple Nurples

Hey guys. Long time no see. Blah blah mandatory whining about how college and work is kicking my ass, blah blah...yeah. You get it. I hardly have time to write these things, and sometimes the inspiration is lacking. But, it's all good. I eventually update. Hopefully I'll be able to churn out the next chapter of Last Sacrifice soon as well. In the meantime, keep reviewing, because I love it. (:

BY THE WAY: Just a hint. If you don't care about my story or have "lost interest in it", don't let me know. I don't particularly care, so I don't see why you would waste your time. Thanks. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own VA, but I own the writing.

* * *

**You're My Better Half**  
**Chapter Three**  
**Purple-Nurples**

"Have you never heard of an umbrella, dumbass?"

Yes, you heard correctly. That was my ever-intelligent response to my sopping-wet, dripping, you-can-see-every-line-of-my-gorgeous-muscles-through-my-thin-clothing roommate, Dimitri Belikov. I never was one for thinking before I spoke, but hey, it could have turned out a lot worse, right? Sure it could have. At least, I think so. I could have said something like, "Please lay me down on that table right there and fuck me until I can feel the inside of my cervix no longer." Yeah. It definitely could have been worse.

So, all in all, when Lissa gave me the "what the fuck are you saying, Rose?" expression and Dimitri flashed me his same, indifferent, "I personally don't give two fucks" look, I simply glanced back and forth between them with a nonchalant shrug, muttering a small, "What are you looking at me like that for?". Lissa pursed her lips and, ever so talkative, Dimitri executed what seemed to be a disappointed sigh. I furrowed my brows, placing my hands on my hips. "Seriously, what did I say?"

"Wonderful way to greet the man that's gone out of his way to retrieve you, Rose," Dimitri offered up the unneeded and unwanted advice, rolling his eyes as one hand brushed away a particularly sopping patch of hair annoying his face. I swallowed. How had he known that I wanted to do that so horribly? He didn't, I chastised myself, turning my hands into fists. He was simply doing what anyone would do with a bothersome piece of hair. "And, if I recall correctly, you barged your way out into the rain earlier, did you not? A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, I see. But that fits your archetype, so I won't hold it against you."

He had a point that was in fact logical, but my anger didn't like to see logic and, fuming, I glared daggers at him. But not just any kind of daggers, oh no! These daggers were on fire. On FIRE. That way, when they punctured that dripping skin of his, it would burn with the intensity of a thousand suns. I was having a little too much fun picturing Dimitri bursting into flames, but my indecent mental victory was crushed when I realized that, were this to happen, his glistening skin would probably put the fire out in a quick hurry because Dimitri _always_ won. I let my once victorious smirk fall into a flat lined frown. Dimitri: 1. Rose: 0.

"Um, I'm going to go…play with Oscar," Lissa whispered to break the silence, causing the heated stare-war occurring between my dear roommate and I to momentarily cease. "Rose, just…come and get me whenever you need me." She gave me the look—THE look—the look that all girlfriends send each other in desperate times, and I was grateful. It was the look that said, "Knock on my door and I will come out here guns-a-blazin' to protect your ass, gurl." I nodded to her in thanks, watching her tentatively make way to her bedroom where she quietly shut the door behind her.

I turned to Dimitri, crossing my arms over my chest. _I _wasn't about to make the first move without knowing his motifs. Well, if we were going to stand here, he was going to speak first. After all, wasn't it him who traveled all the way over here to bring me home? Wait.

He came over here to bring me home? Did that mean he actually cared about me and the fact that he had, in fact, enraged and embarrassed me to the point of leaving the apartment? I was _this_ close to being slightly less angry and more along the lines of satisfied when Dimitri decided to finally open his mouth.

"Baggy clothing isn't very becoming on you, Rose," He offered, smiling in that sort of lopsided way that made my tummy do equal amounts of lopsided-ness. I forced myself to ignore it, however, and instead focused on the audacity he had to insult me at this time of night and in an apartment that wasn't ours. I would have growled, but that would have been a bit creepy—even for me.

"Says the man who is literally _soaked_ from head to toe," I countered, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "You don't exactly fit the 'recently used mop' look, either; hate to break it to you, pretty boy."

Dimitri raised his brow. "You think I'm pretty?"

"No."

"That's what you said."

"I did not."

"Yes you did. I quote, 'Hate to break it to you, _pretty boy_."

"I didn't mean it like—Aw, Hell, I don't give a fuck what I said, Dimitri! Stop taking us in circles." I snarled, putting an end to the ridiculous banter with a prompt stomp of my foot.

"But it's fun to undermine your intelligence, Rose." I could have sworn he just purred that sentence. Did Dimitri just fucking _purr_ at me? Is that even possible? And more importantly, what the Hell was I going to do when my heart finally decided to fail on me because of his subconscious, immense skill to flirt like there was no tomorrow? I swore I was counting down the days until I needed to start writing my goodbyes, if Dimitri even let me get that far. Honestly, he may have been dripping head to toe, but I was dripping in _other _places, if you know what I'm saying. It wasn't every day I got to see the outline of Dimitri's rock hard abs and chiseled forearms. And _man_ did he have some nice arms…

I shifted uncomfortably, and Dimitri seemed to notice this. His head gave a small perk and his eyes went alit with mischief. Did he know what kind of effect he was having on me? If he did, he certainly didn't make much notice of it, or mention it. In fact, he said absolutely nothing, choosing instead to stare at me with that calculating stare that would have made me shift uncomfortably regardless of the fact that he was currently making me ruin my perfectly good underwear. I frowned, tired of the shenanigans.

"Look, comrade," I began, using the nickname that I had given him when we were small children, "Is there a reason you came here, or do you just like putting me through immense, absolutely, and terrifyingly horrible torture?"

"I'm putting you through torture?" He inquired, lifting a brow. "I had no idea I had that kind of effect on you, Rose." The first thing that came to my mind was "BULLSHIT! I call BS on you, Dimitri Belikov!" because God knows that Dimitri knew exactly what he did to _every_ girl he happened to cross paths with; what made me any different? The second thought, however, was: "THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT I WAS REFFERING TO, ASSHOLE." Which, luckily, was the thought I decided to say out loud.

"That's not even what I was referring to, asshole!" I repeated out loud, taking a step closer to him, "Your voice is annoying and staring at your face makes me feel like I'm about to have a hernia. Please inform me of your purpose or get out of my sight before I vomit all over Lissa's perfectly good rug. Not that it would matter because your gross bodily fluids leaking off of you because of the rain have done the job already."

"I see now why you got such bad grades in high school," Dimitri replied, lifting a hand to stare at his nails uninterestingly, which was sort of odd but mostly infuriating. "You were so busy trying to come up with insults that you spent all your time doing so…alone, naturally."

"Oh—What—Dimitri—I—UGH!" I fumbled, grasping my hair and turning away from him to stomp over to the couch. But before I could get my tired rump upon the comfort of the sofa, I felt a hand clasp my wrist none too gently, and suddenly I was being dragged backward. "What the Hell-?" Dimitri, with all those damn muscles he got from joining the army seven years ago, lifted me with ease and suddenly I was riding first class on his shoulder. Of course it wasn't exactly comfortable, so maybe it was more like second class. Oh who am I kidding, his hands were touching my back and I could feel all of his delicious muscles beneath my stomach, so this was definitely first class. I would handle the pain.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I yelled, berating his back with the unforgiving balls of my fists. I should have known that any kind of force, especially my fists, would do nothing to the quarterback-sized man beneath me. But, pretending I had a pride to save was pertinent, and so regardless of the fact that I knew it would do me no good, I continued pounding. When I was sure that it was no longer even fazing him, I reached a hand up to wrap my fingers around a large lump of hair, tugging relentlessly on it. If it didn't hurt him, it would sure as Hell annoy him. Of course, as he carried me outside into the pouring rain and I once again felt the cold droplets pierce my skin, I regretted my choice of words almost immediately. I really, _really_ hoped he didn't put me down now.

He didn't. Instead he did what I wouldn't have ever bet on him doing. He slapped my ass.

"What the fuck?" I screamed, and the way I said it one would have figured I was outraged at his moral indecency. Which, I was, don't get me wrong—I was just sort of more weirded out that I was so immensely turned on by the simple action. I felt my loins tighten and constrict, and all too suddenly I wanted Dimitri to push me against the wall and take me with revered passion. When that didn't happen, however, my libido went into a corner and cried and I was pretty sure I wasn't far behind it. Kicking my legs, I was surprised when he set me down on them, and with a strength I didn't know I had, I forced myself to stand upright (which wasn't easy if you considered the fact they felt like jelly from his touch). Now both of us were being pounded by the tiny cold droplets, and if the situation called for any humor I would have laughed. We both looked sort of ridiculous, albeit he was a _hot_ sort of ridiculous and I was just _utterly _ridiculous, but none the less our glares were matching and for a moment I remembered why we had been best friends for so long. There was something about opposites attracting, but more so it was because we both loved a good challenge.

Currently his was "Get Rose to the car ASAP", while mine was "Do not let the sexy, muscular Russian lure you into his pedo van." Alright, so Dimitri wasn't a pedo and he definitely didn't drive a van, but if I allowed my brain to consider him an enemy, maybe my body would actually listen to me for once. We stared each other down for a considerable amount of time, and I began to hate the stupid staring matches we participated in. What did we obtain out of them other than wasted time? Rolling my eyes, I held my arms out, giving him an exasperated look while doing so.

"Dimitri, please tell me why you are here, honestly. Other than that pride of yours that is continuously inflated for no damn reason at all, why come here and try to bring me home? If anything I would think that you would be grateful for my absence. This way you can bring Tasha over and be as loud as you want. Not that you don't already do so when I'm there, but this way you can avoid the annoyance of my complaints the following morning. Right?"

He revered me with an indifferent look, but something told me there was more behind it then he was letting on. I saw his chest rise with a silent inhale of air and he let it out slowly. "I…don't know, Rose. Is it uncommon for me to care about you?"

"Um, yes," I replied immediately, probably quicker than I should have. I saw the hurt flash over his face for a mere second before he went back to his calm resolve, but I didn't back down. "The last time you asked me how I was doing was when I was cooking you your hot wings before the football game, and that was because the game had already started and your tongue had yet to taste food."

Dimitri pursed his lips. "Well, usually you cook them faster than that," He explained, seemingly at a loss to say much else. I sighed.

"Answer my question, Dimitri, or I will walk my happy, wet ass back inside and you can take your nice, wet ass home."

He seemed to catch something I said, and his eyes betrayed the thought running through his mind. "Did you just say I have a nice ass?" Why did he catch all the things I _didn't_ want him to, but never the ones I so desperately _needed_ him to? And why did he always take them the wrong way?

"Forgoing your ignorance," I started, waving my hand dismissively at him, "I expect an actual answer. Now."

"I figured we should…um," He was struggling for the right words to say, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen. "Well, at the very least, shouldn't we talk about what happened today?"

This threw me for a loop. "What?" I questioned incredulously, widening my eyes in disbelief. "You are actually taking the initiative to talk about an issue we have? I must have done an exceptionally good thing coming over here to Lissa's, because the last thing I want is to be alone on the day of the apocalypse."

Dimitri wasn't amused. "Rose," He growled out seriously, causing me to sober up quickly. "I'm not trying to be facetious here, so I'd appreciate if you weren't as well. I think we should talk about this, lest our relationship get even more…"

"Awkward?" I offered, to which Dimitri nodded thankfully. "I don't know what you think there is that needs to be said."

He furrowed his brows, and I watched him cross his arms over his chest. Oh boy did that almost cause my legs to give out on me. Seeing those forearms in all their muscular glory... "I walked in on you masturbating…to the thought of me. I think that _something_ is a bit of an understatement for what needs to be said, don't you think?"

"You're quite full of yourself," I countered prestigiously, "For all you know I could have been picturing another Dimitri. You're not the only one in the world, Belikov."

"And the award for 'Suckiest Smartass' goes to Rose Hathaway," He rolled his eyes, "Look, if you are honestly telling me that you were picturing someone else—if you can _swear_ that you were, I will drop this and head home immediately. But something tells me that's not the case." He was giving me that look, and I frowned. I hated when he gave me that look. It was like a huge guilt trip all bundled up nicely in a small package waiting on my doorstep. I couldn't lie when he was staring at me like that.

"…I don't know another Dimitri," I admitted. It wasn't _exactly_ stating outright that I had been fantasizing about him, but it got the truth across. "But other than that, I don't know what to say."

"Then perhaps you'll answer my questions," Dimitri proposed, taking a step closer to me. I felt my face flush at the all-too-sudden intimate closeness between us, and I wanted to back away. "Why were you fantasizing about _me_ of all people?"

I felt pressured, and the walls surrounding me were slowly closing in on me. I could have been hyperventilating for all I knew, but I did know that any place besides Dimitri was a good place to focus on. I struggled for words, failing miserably when I realized that each one just became stuck in a jumbled mess inside my chest. Grasping at thin air, I grit my teeth. Why did he have to know so damn bad? Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? I just needed time to be away from him, and then I would come back home and we could act like nothing happened. Why did he have to come over here all curious and inquisitive? And more importantly, why did he have to look so goddamn smokin' hot wet?

"So you walked in on me with my hand down my pants!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in exasperation. I took a step back from him, my personal space invaded and focused on the ground. "No big fucking deal, right? I mean, girls can masturbate, too! If I remember correctly, I walked in on you once when you were in the ninth grade, masturbating to some grade B porno! Did I make a big deal out of it? No!"

"Actually," Dimitri held up a finger, "You took a picture of me and posted copies all over the girl's locker room."

I blanched. "Oh, right. Well…I think you deserved it, because the week before you took a pair of my underwear and hung it up like a fuckin' flag in the boy's locker room."

"Maybe," Dimitri smiled as he reminisced of our younger, wilder days, "But in the end I won because the posting my picture only served to cause more girls to flock after me."

I snorted. "Yeah, I know. Because of you I can associate a moan with every girl from yours and my high school class."

Silence enveloped us once again, and this time neither of us seemed too keen on talking. Maybe the memories had Dimitri feeling nostalgic, but whatever the case was, he wasn't talking and I wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at me, that much I could tell from my peripherals, and I shifted nervously under his gaze. What was he staring at so intently anyways? Knowing him, I probably had something on my face and he was just waiting for me to ask the question so he could poke more fun at me. That was what Dimitri did best, after all. I narrowed my eyes, thinning out my lips into a slim line.

"Something. Interesting?" I snarled, punctuating my words through my gritted teeth. Dimitri's lips lifted into a subtle amused smile, a quiet chuckle reverberating in the cavity of his chest. Surprised, I lifted my head and stared with a confused expression. He was inches from me, looking down at me from his six foot seven height. Since when had he gotten so close?

"Well," He whispered, "It's raining and you're in thin clothing. It seems your body is reacting to the cold."

I paled, glancing down at myself. Somewhere in our struggle, the top buttons of my loose, flannel shirt had come unbuttoned and a copious amount of my well-endowed breasts were revealed. Cleavage was exposed, as were my taut, cold nipples pressed against the fabric, and I suddenly felt all the warmth still residing in my body fly up to my cheeks where they promptly tinted with red.

"I…uh," I stumbled over myself, too embarrassed to even move at this point, "S-Stop looking!"

"But I enjoy it," He mumbled huskily, and I watched his eyes glaze over with unmentioned lust. "I forget you're a woman sometimes, Roza."

Oh fuck. The nickname. Jesus Christ he hadn't used that nickname on me in years and the last time he had was back in my sophomore year of high school when we'd had our first sexual experience. It had been awkward and misplaced—we were both drunk out of our minds and I had, unfairly, seduced Dimitri in my drunken stupor. I had no idea what I was doing, and he had no control over himself, and so naturally that lead to one thing after the other and, successfully, he had taken my virginity. It would have been even slightly romantic had he felt any sort of interest in me while sober, but alas, we all know how that's gone. Either way, he'd stopped calling me the childhood pet name since and the effect it had on me came back full force when he used it now.

I was slightly aware that his hand was moving, his arm rising to gently brush against my collarbone and down the exposed line of my neck toward the area of my breasts. His tongue delved out of his mouth and licked his lips deviously, his fingertips trailing down my supple skin while I did absolutely nothing to stop him. For a moment I forgot that he had a girlfriend, that he was a man-whore, and that this would absolutely ruin our friendship. All I could think at the moment was the undeniable desire I had for him to touch me…everywhere.

His fingertips swept over my aroused nipple and I began to arch into his touch, my mouth falling open. My arms were preparing for launch, ready to wrap around his neck to hold myself up, but before I could, the sound of the door opening pulled us out of our own little worlds. Simultaneously we turned our heads, and Lissa's eyes flickered back and forth from mine to Dimitri's.

"Sorry, sorry!" She apologized repeatedly, but it was too late. Realizing his mistake, Dimitri withdrew his hand, taking a step back to get some distance in between us. But, of course, not before making sure to cover his ass. His fingers, once soft and willing to pleasure me into oblivion, now chose the opposite route. With a smirk coated in mischief, Dimitri closed his hand.

And promptly gave me a purple-nurple.

"FUCK!" I yelled in pain, eyes widening at the sensation running through me. The action had once perhaps had the potential to be satisfying, but he had clamped down so hard that I could have sworn my nipple was being ripped off rather than pleasured. A hand covered the sore nub and rubbed it tenderly as I felt tears of anger well up in my eyes. "What the fuck, Dimitri!"

"I'll see you at work tomorrow, Rose," Dimitri chided, and suddenly he was at the bottom of the stairs, "Don't be late!"

And then he was gone.

It felt like what had just occurred had all been an elaborate fantasy I created in my head. I blinked, glancing over at Lissa after watching Dimitri peel out of the parking lot in his 2010 Mustang. Lissa gave me the biggest "I'm guilty" look ever and immediately rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. "Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to ruin anything, I was just concerned because you guys had been out here for awhile and it's raining and—"

I pushed her away from me, but not out of anger. At least she had confirmed the fact that it had been real and I wasn't batshit insane. Shoving her back inside, I shut the door behind us and made my way toward the bathroom to get a towel for my wet hair. Thank God I'd brought a change of clothing. "Look, Liss, its okay. It wasn't your fault. In fact, I'm _glad_ you stopped whatever was about to happen. It would have been a mistake had Dimitri made any sort of move. But, to be honest, I don't think he was going to. I think he intended on giving me that damn purple-nurple the entire time."

"Oh, Rose," Lissa murmured sadly, obviously distraught over my situation, "He's a jerk. Forget about him!"

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled in response, heading into the guest room where Lissa had dumped my suitcase. Opening it, I rummaged through it to find something acceptable to wear to bed tonight while I dried my wet clothing. I assumed Lissa hadn't heard me with her lack of response, and so instead I focused on getting myself to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it, taking a deep breath while my mind reeled over what had just happened. I grabbed the towel hanging on a rod by the shower and wrapped it around my head to dry my hair. Beginning to unbutton whatever remaining buttons were left on my shirt, I sighed.

I tugged the wet material off my body and tossed into a foreign corner. I did the same with my pants and replaced them with the only other sleep-wear I had to my name: a black nightie. It was some kind of expensive silk and felt amazing to the touch, but it was just a bit embarrassing to wear outside where Lissa would be looking over me as if she were appraising a property. I found her robe hanging on the back of the door and slipped it around myself to cover up the negligence.

After bidding Lissa a goodnight (hers consisting of "we will talk about this in the morning on the way to work~!"), I shut myself up tight in the guest room and sighed as my back hit the bed. I hadn't realized how tired all this emotional mess had made me. My heart felt like it had just run a marathon. Wrapping the covers around me, I felt Oscar jump up onto the bed and snuggle up at my feet. I bid him the appropriate goodnight, scratching him behind his ears and kissing the top of his head. I would see Dimitri tomorrow at work, I realized with a frown. What would happen then? Would he insist we finish our 'talk', or would he advise we start a new one over what happened outside Lissa's apartment? I had no idea, but my brain wasn't willing to let me argue with myself anymore. Too tired, I felt my eyes start to slide shut. Falling back onto my pillow, I resigned to the overwhelming desire of sleep.

A sleep full of wet dreams that consisted of my hot, Russian best friend.


	4. Update, explanations

So many of you know that I was plagiarized recently.

The issue of the plagiarizing has been resolved, but I'm still addressing this because a lot of the reviews I've received have been concerning, and I feel like a lot of the community doesn't even understand what plagiarism is. Please read this so you can gain an understanding of where I'm coming from. I hope it opens up just a few eyes as to why this was so "serious" and "such a big deal" to me.

Plagiarism, as defined by the dictionary:

**pla•gia•rism** [pley-juh-riz-uhm]  
_noun_  
**1.** the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one's own original work, as by not crediting the author: _It is said that he plagiarized Thoreau's plagiarism of a line written by Montaigne._ _**Synonyms:**_appropriation, infringement, piracy, counterfeiting; theft, borrowing, cribbing, passing off.

You can see where the issue here lays. Recently, I had my work stolen from me right underneath my feet. It is by far the worst thing that could happen to a writer, or even someone that enjoys writing as a hobby. To any of you out there that write just like I do, I imagine you feel the same anger and hurt that I do toward your own writing getting taken from you with the ease of "ctrl+c" and "ctrl+v".

The work that had been written copied my entire first chapter (only changing the ending), and then further stole passages to stick in randomly in their "original take" on the plot/idea that _I _came up with. Not only did they steal the plot and idea (the exact plot and idea, mind you—not just the BASIS of it), but they stole the EXACT writing/wording/phrases/sentence structure that I wrote MYSELF that came from MY mind.

But is it REALLY illegal to steal words and ideas from someone?

"According to U.S. Law, YES. The EXPRESSION of ORIGINAL IDEAS is considered INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY and is protected by COPYRIGHT LAWS. Almost ALL forms of expression fall under copyright protection as long as they are record in some way (such as a book or COMPUTER FILE)." (Plagiarism . o r g, _What is Plagiarism?_)

My writing is like my baby; I strive to make it close to perfection, or as close as it can come to in my mind. I write hours upon hours, erasing and rewriting all to make sure that what I churn out is as pleasurable to read as possible. I _enjoy_ writing for the fans of my work, and up until recently, I thought that the respect I had for them was mutual. However, in recent light I have realized that a lot of the fan base I write for simply does not have respect for the work I write, or how much effort I put into it _for them_. A lot of them are young and probably do not yet understand not only the moral issues with copying someone's work, but also the legal; I can understand this to an extent. However, when they are telling me I should just "get over it" and that it is "my fault for putting it on the internet"—that's where I draw the line.

It places me in a state of awe to know that a lot of my fans don't give a rat's behind what happens to my work as long as the story is continued somewhere. That is by far the most disappointing thing out of all of this. I keep receiving messages like, "you should have given it up for adoption because you haven't updated so long" or something like, "she only stole a FEW of your passages and like, the first chapter. She's taking your idea and writing her own version of it." …Does no one else see anything wrong with this? This is MY story and I have the right to do with it as I please. If I want to continue it, I will; if I don't, then I should feel safe leaving it here to update when I want to.

According to Plagiarism . o r g , all of the following are considered plagiarism:

_- turning in someone else's work as your own  
__- copying words or ideas from someone else without giving credit  
- failing to put a quotation in quotation marks  
- giving incorrect information about the source of a quotation  
- changing words but copying the sentence structure of a source without giving credit  
- copying so many words or ideas from a source that it makes up the majority of your work, whether you give credit or not (see our section on "fair use" rules)_

Clearly there are numerous of the above listed that were broken. The story was published under a penname that was not mine; the idea AND words were copied directly; the parts that came from me were not quoted and cited; some sentences were changed but the structure remained mostly the same; the majority of that work that copied me WAS MY OWN, and I was NOT given credit. At this point, though, according to the last line, regardless of whether or not I was given credit, too much of MY IDEA and MY WRITING was stolen to matter.

Again, according to Plagiarism . o r g, the follow are considered TYPES of plagiarism:

_ "The Ghost Writer"  
…The writer turns in another's work, word-for-word, as his or her own.  
"The Photocopy"  
…The writer copies significant portions of text straight from a single source, without alteration.  
"The Potluck Paper"  
…The writer tries to disguise plagiarism by copying from several different sources, tweaking the sentences to make them fit together while retaining most of the original phrasing.  
"The Poor Disguise"  
…Although the writer has retained the essential content of the source, he or she has altered the paper's appearance slightly by changing key words and phrases.  
"The Labor of Laziness"  
…The writer takes the time to paraphrase most of the paper from other sources and make it all fit together, instead of spending the same effort on original work.  
"The Self-Stealer"  
…The writer "borrows" generously from his or her previous work, violating policies concerning the expectation of originality adopted by most academic institutions._

You can see that, at this point, anything that is not your work completely (or has minimal work from another put in, and given the proper credit) is basis for plagiarism.

Now, I don't expect the average Joe Schmoe to know all this information at the very edge of their brain, ready to spew off at a moment's notice. However, just LISTENING in grade school to high school can put you in the right frame of mind to understand the consequences and implications copying someone else's work. All through my younger years I was told repeatedly in class and English courses that COPYING is WRONG. It is not such a terrible/hard thing to ask readers to use common sense.

I have received so many negative reviews from this community that it makes me consider taking down all my works together. A lot of you claim to love my stories, yet when it comes time to defend my writing and my hard work I did for YOU, you refuse and say to just "let her continue writing her story", as if it is HER story to begin with. It might as well be mine, considering the words and ideas are all STOLEN FROM ME. You like her story? You are essentially liking MINE. Yes, the author changed some things and wrote a few scenes a bit differently, but that doesn't mean it's original.

You know, I will even go as far to say that, while I wouldn't be too thrilled about it, I wouldn't mind it AS MUCH if the author took my idea and took her own spin on it. Yes, it would still be MY IDEA but I could live with that more so than reading them using my EXACT WRITING and claiming it as their own. I did not give them permission, and they did not ask. It's disrespectful and rude, first and foremost.

I have gotten some support from people and to those that side with me, thank you. It is YOU who I know I can count on; it is YOU I have been writing for all this time. You make me realize that writing is worth it because you understand that my life is not devoted to writing fan fiction. I have a job, I go to school, I have to support my family, my grandfather passed away recently—there are so many things that have just individually gone on/gone wrong in my life, and thank you for understanding that. It's so disappointing that others don't.

Thank you again to those that understand, and please look forward to future updates once I get past this.

.They Call Me Alice.


End file.
